


To Heal Her Heart Pt 2 (Legolas/Reader)

by EffervescentAngel



Series: Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit One Shots [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Legolas is a good egg, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Romance, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffervescentAngel/pseuds/EffervescentAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your body may have been taken out of bondage, but will your heart ever be free?</p>
<p>A resolution to the first part :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Heal Her Heart Pt 2 (Legolas/Reader)

You looked at yourself in your new dress and frowned. You couldn't help it, really. The gown, a deep burgundy silk trimmed with gold shimmered and glowed in the low light of the lamps in the Elvenking's underground palace. Your fingernails had been trimmed and buffed. Your hair was carefully styled in delicate twists and braids, the ends painstakingly curled. Everything was flawless and fit for royalty.

 

All but you.

 

You had lived with the Woodland Elves for nearly a year now and all signs of your previous abuse at the hands of the Master of Laketown had vanished. Outwardly. The salves and warm bandages applied to your skin had long since healed the scrapes and softened the scars left from the many beatings you had received, but would you ever be able to fully close the wounds left on your battered heart? The hearty and wholesome meals you were fed had taken the sharpness from your shoulders and had allowed your cheeks to fill out again, but how could one truly erase the pain of a soul so long starved of affection? The warm bed you had been given to sleep in and the luxurious adjoining bathing chambers had long since banished the darkness from beneath your eyes and last of the soot from your skin, but could you ever be rid of the damage of a lifetime of having your dignity dragged through the dirt?

 

Studiying your face in the elegant long mirror, you noted that your skin was now smooth as a noblewoman's, your cheeks glowed with health and your eyes sparkled with new hope. But you couldn't wholly rid your heart and mind of the shadow of who you had once been. A dirty slave girl, used and deprived and wretched.

 

You had been dwelling on these things for the past two days, thoughts that had scarcely entered your mind since you came to stay with Legolas and his father in the Greenwood. Here, you had learned to laugh again, to smile and speak your mind without fear of reprisal. You had even learned that, although all rulers were to be respected, they need not be feared, for King Thranduil led his people by loving them and he and his son had applied the same principle to you. Tending you as one might a withered flower in a garden, feeding you, allowing you to bask in the sunlight and delight in a cool breeze, watching with steadfast patience as you blossomed and learned to live again.

 

But two days ago, Legolas had told you of a tradition among his people. A day of giving thanks for all that Illuvatar had done for them. There would be food and wine and dancing. At some point during the festivities, each person was to stand and give thanks for at least one thing from the past year. He had asked you if, during your turn, you would like to choose a name, an Elvish name to symbolize both your new status as a free woman and as a ward of the Woodland Realm. A clean slate with which to begin a new life.

 

You were pulled from your reverie by the sound of a familiar voice calling your name. You turned to find Legolas watching you intently, is if he could read the thoughts swirling around in your head.

 

“What is the matter?”

 

You meant to reply gently, assuring him that all was well and that you were just slightly nervous about the celebration. But as soon as you opened your mouth you found yourself giving a very different answer from the one you had intended.

 

“How can I stand up there, in front of everyone and tell them what I am grateful for? How can I openly confess what a miserable life I led before I knew you that I find myself ready to weep at the sight of fresh food on my plate everyday, clothing that is not only new but mine to keep? How can I reveal the wretchedness of my life, the utter deprivation I have survived, to people who believe that this- this- _bountiful_ way of life is just the way of things?”

 

Your chest heaved violently and you gasped for breath. Tears began to gather in your eyes and you recognized an emotion you had not thought to feel ever again. Shame. For that was what this feeling was, washing over and through you in strong waves, making you feel petty and small. You had thought you had come so far during your time here but it seemed you still had a long way to go. You lowered your gaze from his and prepared yourself for the censure that was sure to come.

 

Instead, you felt a gentle hand under your chin, lifting your face back up to meet his. Where you expected to see disappointment and even anger, you only compassion and concern.

 

“I want to show you something.”

 

He led you through the halls of his home, out into the warm sunshine and through the woods. You walked for a long time until you came to an old tree, its branches thick and sprawling outwards, its trunk reaching proudly up to the sky. He helped you climb, stayed by your side till you were near the very top, about to poke your head through the canopy. Here, he paused and pulled you in front of him so you were both crouching. He placed his hands over your eyes and encouraged you to lean against him for balance. Slowly, you stood together and soon you could feel a soft breeze against your face.

 

He spoke low in your ear, “You were raised in a world of ash and sewage, nurtured in an environment of humiliation, guided by fear. You were brought here to revel in the starlight, to open your soul and remember your pain no more. Whatever you may think, whatever else you may believe, know this: you see the slave girl you once were. You look at yourself in your finery and feel unworthy. You see the scars and the shame. But my people do not measure thus. When you first came to me, you were as a little wounded sparrow, flightless and afraid. You have grown stronger since then and you need not feel shame for the things that bring you joy.”

 

He lowered his hands from your eyes to your shoulders and you looked out at the canopy that covered all of the Greenwood. Tiny birds rose up from their nests only to return a short while later. The parents looked on, proud of the progress of their offspring. Soon those baby birds would fully spread their wings and fly. Then you understood.

 

“Little Sparrow, let us be there for your first flight. Soon you will soar high to the heavens, above your oppressors, beyond even what you can imagine. But for now, let us all share in your joy, in the small triumphs of your new life.”

 

“Órëhelwa.”, you turned your head to him and repeated, “ Órëhelwa. I want to be called Órëhelwa.”

 

He smiled widely, his eyes glowing. “Rising sky”, he breathed. He leaned in and kissed you, chaste and sweet, reveling in your joy. He threw his head back and laughed, full and happy, the afternoon sunlight making his beautiful face glow and you felt your heart swell. You had been a fool earlier. You had much to be grateful for. A new name and a new life. And a chance for so much more.

 

You could not wait for tonight's celebration.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving all!!


End file.
